She led the way up the ladder. The roof isn't exactly easy to get to, or even safe, for that matter. In order to get up there you have to climb up a poorly welded ladder. Most people take one look at the rust, and ask, "Are you sure it's safe." But not mom. "Don't worry, Honey, I'm a monkey!"
We sat there, on the roof, and she told about when she was younger she used to climb up into water towers, late at night. She and her friends would dangle their feet off the top, high above the ground. This is the side of her that I love imagining: adventurous and daring. I never really got to see that side of her because she always had to be responsible and set a good example for my sisters and me. But I love thinking about what she was like before she had children. We always joke that we would have been best friends back then, but in retrospect, we pretty much are now. I guess I just wish that I could have been alive during the funnest part of her life.
Before we went back down, she took a moment to look out at the city; her hair and dress lightly blowing around in the wind. It was a beautiful day.
I love the things that you find walking around San Francisco. Piles of objects that are perfectly placed. Decisions that someone made, and passersby quickly walk by without giving it a second thought, carefully avoiding coming too close.
Pierrevert, which is in the South of France, was an incredible place, but it was also above 90 degrees every day. Coming from San Francisco weather, it was rough. Regardless, I spent most days walking about 6 miles, checking out exhibitions, meeting other artists, and when I got the time, photographing on my own. The town of Pierrevert was very old, parts of it were built even as early as 1500-1700. The sweet couple hosting me shared the history of the town, explaining how the hills and mountains surrounding them protected the people from attacks. And while a lot has been built since the towns origin, it still has that isolated feeling.
I loved seeing the overgrown weeds everywhere. Living in a big city, like San Francisco, nature is manufactured to fit between concrete slabs. A Tree here, bush there, and when the roots wreck the concrete, they just cut the tree down. And while I'm not really the nature-type, it's difficult not to appreciate a landscape so lush and seductive. The wind blowing through it's snail infested mane, and the sort of quiet and reflective air that gets into your lungs.
It just keeps ticking. A machine in constant disarray, moving so fast you can't tell if it's speeding up or slowing down. The distant hum of steel to concrete, drowned out by bluetooth conversations, and bustling cars. A rollercoaster moving so fast you can only focus on the blurs of color as they pass you by. Look at it. Look at it hard. Concentrate. Try to follow one blade on the ceiling fan as it circles and circles and circles. As soon as you catch it, it's already gone again. Concentrate.